


Ghosts

by hotfruits



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotfruits/pseuds/hotfruits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighty years after his death, Kunpimook makes a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts

Kunpimook had been dead for over sixty years when a young boy, no older than seven, waltzed into the antique shop with his mother. The excited boy dragged his tired mother around the shop, pointing out different items with a grin, until he paused, a small gasp leaving his mouth. “Mama!” he shouted, his little finger pressing against the glass that kept the jewelry safe. “Mama, can I have that necklace, pretty please?”

The necklace in question was truly one of a kind, although the boy didn’t know that. It was commissioned in 1942, by a young mother for her beloved son, before he went off to war. The necklace itself was a simple rope string, which had been replaced over the years. The thing that made it special, and what surely caught the boy’s eyes, was the pendant that hung from the string; it was a hand-carved, wooden snake, whose tiny body was coiled into a tight circle.

The boy’s mother rolled her eyes affectionately, but nodded, handing the shop owner several Baht banknotes. He put the money away before grabbing the necklace and carefully placing it over the bouncing boy’s neck. “Oh, it’s so cool!” he squealed, one hand moving to caress the soft wood, while his mother grabbed the other, pulling him from the shop. “Thank you, mama!”

“Just make you’re careful with it, Jia-Er,” she reminded him with a smile, “It’s an antique, so it’s very old.”

“Don’t worry, mama!” Jia-Er exclaimed, finally taking his eyes off of the necklace in order to beam up at his mother, “I’m going to keep it forever!”

“I sure hope not,” Kunpimook replied with a grumble, well-aware that the happy pair wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Oh well,” he sighed, feeling that unmistakable pull as his necklace traveled down the street, strung low on some kid’s neck. “It’s like mother always said,” he attempted to smile, hurrying after the two, “Change is good, right?”

No. At first, change isn’t good; it’s complicated and a part of him wants to strangle the new owner of his necklace, the loud Jia-Er who spills ramen broth on it and wears it in the bath, no doubt damaging the authentic Cham Cha wood. “Oh, c’mon you brat!” he shouts, hands on his hips as Jia-Er rolls through the grass, covering himself in dirt and dried leaves. “Ah, this kid is going to be the death of me,” he whined, realizing the idiocy of his statement just as Jia-Er jumped into a leaf pile, shrieking with joy.

Of course, Jia-Er wasn’t the death of him (there were a few close calls, though – seriously, who let the boy wear his necklace while playing with swords!?). Instead, he watches as Jia-Er grows over the years, the boy transitioning from a rowdy and loud child, to an equally rowdy and loud teenager (albeit with a stronger sense of purpose in the world). Jackson, as he prefers to be called now, dedicates himself to his sports, academics, family, and friends; and Kunpimook gets to experience every moment of it.

He’s there when Jackson breaks down in the locker room, just a few months shy of fifteen, over his first big loss during a tournament. Angry tears fall from his eyes as his fingers grip the wooden snake, wondering aloud if his father and mother will be disappointed in him. “They’d never be disappointed in you,” Kunpimook says, and although Jackson can’t hear him, his sobs slowly began to dissipate, “They’re so proud of you, Jia-Er.” Thankfully, Jackson’s father shows up and gives him a similar speech, his hand rubbing soothing circles along his back.

Although it hurts, Jackson doesn’t let the loss stop him; if anything, he becomes even more motivated to win. He begins practicing a few extra times a week, sacrificing the time he would’ve spent with friends or family to perfect his technique. He pushes himself harder and harder, truly giving it everything he’s got – blood, sweat, and tears.

In 2011, Jackson’s dedication pays off as he wins his first gold medal. Kunpimook can’t help but feel proud as Jackson lifts it into the air, the brightest smile he’s ever seen plastered on the teen’s face, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. He goes on to win one more gold medal, before hanging up his sabre for good. “It’s time I focused on getting into a good school,” he tells his parents over breakfast one day, their smiles sad but understanding.

The same effort Jackson put into fencing, he applies to his academics. Kunpimook watches the dark circles growing under Jackson’s eyes, as the teen stays up later and later, night after night, head bend over his textbook and scribbling notes into his journals. “Jia-Er, you should take a break,” he whispers one evening, Jackson yawning for the umpteenth time. “You’re going to make yourself sick,” he continues, worrying over the teen who can’t see or hear him; a part of him wishes he could stroke Jackson’s back, if only to show the teen that he’s here with him.

Jackson graduates at eighteen with honors, and packs up for Los Angeles a few weeks later. He breaks up with his childhood sweetheart, kisses his mother and father goodbye, and boards the sixteen hour flight to his new home. He smiles as he converses with the people next to him, but Kunpimook can see the way he nervously fiddles with his necklace, his fingertips tracing along the snake’s coils.

Unlike Jackson, Kunpimook never received a formal education. He was the youngest son in a family of four, so while his two older brothers went to school, he stayed at home and helped his mother around the house, while taking care of his baby sister. Occasionally, his brothers would share their books with him, teaching him how to read different words or to solve a math problem. It was never permanent, though, and once the war it came, it didn’t matter if he could write his own name or not.

He sighs and glances over at Jackson, noticing that the young man is asleep. “Change is good, kid,” he says, chuckling slightly to himself. “You’re going to make us all so proud.”

They arrive in Los Angeles without any drama, and Jackson finds his luggage before hailing a taxi. “UCLA, please,” he says to the driver, who just grunts and peels away from the curb with a squeak, Jackson immediately tensing up. Kunpimook glares as the driver continues to speed, taking the corners too sharp and cutting several other drivers off; Jackson, in the seat next to him, has gone pale, his hands clenching at the seat. Thankfully, they arrive at the school in one piece, Jackson rushing towards his new home with renewed exuberance.

“This is it!” he practically squeals with excitement, entering the residence hall. Several eyes follow Jackson as he walks, no doubt admiring the handsome young man. Kunpimook smiles as he walks along, remembering a young Jia-Er with missing teeth and a spot of dirt on his cheek.

“Ah, oh my god!” Jackson giggles as he bounces up and down, standing in front of his room. He knocks on the door and waits, wiggling excitedly; when it opens, he nearly jumps his new roommate, bringing a wide-eyed blonde into his arms and chattering a mile a minute.

Kunpimook, on the other hand, is frozen outside of Jackson’s doorway, looking past the two men and at the other occupant in the room. “You’re…you,” he stutters, taking a step back as the other begins to move forward, until his back hits the wall, “Are you…like me?”

“Have you never seen another spirit before?” he asks, an amused smile on his face. Kunpimook shakes his head; the only place he’s lived, besides with Jackson, is the antique shop. “Well, I’m a spirit, like you,” he pokes Kunpimook in the chest, who jumps, surprised when the touch doesn’t go through him, “And I’ve been dead for one hundred and twenty years. How about you?”

“Eighty years,” Kunpimook replies, his voice no louder than a whisper, “You…touched me.”

“Um, yeah?” he raises a brow at Kunpimook, before shrugging it off and grabbing his hand, dragging him into the dorm room. “So, this is Mark Tuan,” he gestures towards the blonde with his free hand, and then back to himself, “And I’m Kim Yugyeom.”

“Kunpimook Bhuwakul,” he introduces himself, glancing from Yugyeom’s face to the hand that holds his. “It’s,” he starts, then chokes, sniffling (even though no tears come), “It’s been so long.”

“What has?”

“This,” he says, referring to their linked hands, “Yugyeom, I haven’t touched anyone since…” he closes his eyes, ignoring the images that flash behind them. “Since I was alive.”

“Oh, oh,” he promptly drops Kunpimook’s hand, ignoring the saddened whine that leaves his throat, “Oh god, I’m so sorry. First time seeing another spirit and being touched, no wonder you’re…” he trails off, the words _‘emotional’_  hanging in the air. “Look, how about I leave for a bit, and you can keep an eye on the kids,” he offers, which Kunpimook accepts with a sniffly nod.

Once Yugyeom is out of the room, Kunpimook directs his attention back towards Jackson, who is sitting cross-legged next to Mark. He’s still chattering like a lunatic, but Mark watches him with a smile, occasionally nodding along or providing a one-word answer. “Oh, Jia-Er,” he sighs, as Jackson giggles and slaps Mark’s chest, making the blonde laugh along with him, “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

When Yugyeom finally returns, the lights are off and everyone is fast asleep, Mark’s quiet snores filling the room. “Hey,” he gives a little wave from his spot on the floor, where he had been watching Jackson sleep. He knows it’s an odd thing to do, but for some reason, Jackson’s sleeping face always brought him peace.

“Hey,” Yugyeom echoes, sitting beside him with a smile, “You feeling better?”

Kunpimook nods, giving Jackson’s face one last look, before directing his gaze at Yugyeom. “Can I ask for a favor?” he questions, receiving a silent nod in return. “Will you…touch me, again?” It takes a second for him to realize how awkward that sounds, and to try and backtrack his request, “I mean, um–”

Yugyeom chuckles and takes his hand within his own, lacing their fingers together. Kunpimook gives his fingers an experimental squeeze and feels the bones in Yugyeom’s hand, thin but strong, unlike his own. He then rubs the pads of fingers along the other’s skin, the flesh as cold as ice, but smooth from lack of use. “It feels nice,” he says finally, letting their joined hands rest on Yugyeom’s firm thigh, “My hands weren’t nice.”

“They were well used,” Yugyeom corrects him, his own fingers taking an experimental walk, “Your fingertips are calloused over, no doubt from years of hard work. Your skin is also rough, and a little dry, telling me you worked outside for some time?”

Kunpimook chuckles, shaking his head, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“What do my hands tell you?”

“I think…I think you grew up well,” Kunpimook starts, not wanting to offend. Yugyeom just continues to smile, his fingers stroking along his knuckles, “You were rich and never did any hard labor. You have slight callouses on your fingertips, most likely from playing an instrument or using a pen, but you never got down on your knees, scrubbing the floors clean or pulling weeds out of the garden.”

“I played piano,” Yugyeom responds, “Although, my older brother Youngjae was much better than me. He was a terrible dancer, though.”

“You have strong legs,” Kunpimook blurts out, and then blushes, swearing softly.

“I loved to dance,” Yugyeom closes his eyes, as if reliving a distant memory. Kunpimook uses the opportunity to explore Yugyeom’s face, noticing right away how handsome he is, with his strong jaw and high cheekbones; he’s also very adorable, though, with his boyish smile and dreamy eyes.

“I never learned,” Kunpimook admits, receiving a wicked grin in return; before he can even blink, Yugyeom is dragging him to his feet and bringing his hands to settle on his broad shoulders. “Really?” Kunpimooks asks with a laugh, as Yugyeom then places his hands on his waist, bringing them close.

He gulps as they begin to sway, a simple two-step back and forth. He can’t help but notice that from this angle (just below Yugyeom’s nose) and with the moonlight streaming in, he looks…Kunpimook shakes his head, pushing the thought from his mind. Instead, he smiles and stands on his tip toes, so that he can rest his head in the space between Yugyeom’s shoulder and neck.

He closes his eyes, reveling in the other’s touch.

The last time he had been held like this was during the war. It was a cold, winter night, as shivers wracked his body, making his teeth chatter. His friend, Nickhkun, brought the boy into his arms, so that he could share his body heat. “It’s so cold,” Kunpimook had whined, his freezing lips brushing against the smooth skin of Nickhkun’s neck.

“Just try and relax,” Nickhkun whispered back, tightening his embrace. “Just try and sleep, Kunpimook, and we’ll be home before you know it.”

“Kunpimook?” Yugyeom’s gentle tone draws him back to the present. He slowly lifts his head and falls back onto the balls of his feet, blinking up at Yugyeom curiously. “You were…” Yugyeom pauses, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. He gave the plush skin a quick bite, before releasing it with a sigh, “You know what, it’s not important.”

“Are you sure?”

Yugyeom nods, tightening his embrace.

The next day, Mark and Jackson leave the dorm and venture to the mall, in search of cool decorations and knick-knacks to adorn their new living space with. Kunpimook and Yugyeom trail behind them, lost in their own conversations. “You really lived a high society life?” Kunpimook asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I was so high society, I had an arranged marriage,” Yugyeom groans, running his hands through his hair. It spikes up for a moment, before falling perfectly back in the place, “Her name was Suji. She was definitely beautiful, but…”

“You didn’t love her?”

“No, although I could have been happy with her,” Yugyeom says, his expression thoughtful, “I was young, though, and wanted to live my own life.”

Kunpimook shrugs, “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Maybe not, but regardless,” his expression turns regretful as he frowns, “I could have lived a long life with her. I could have died at seventy, surrounded by my family, instead of at eighteen and all alone,” he sighs, idly rubbing at his wrist.

“I think it’s normal, to think about the what ifs and could have beens,” Kunpimook says after a few moments, interrupting the silence that had fallen upon them. He glances away from the smiling and laughing Jackson, who is pulling Mark into a clothing store, and at Yugyeom, “I know when I look back, there’s a lot I regret. And it’s hard, not to feel sad, but it’s over and done with, right?” he looks back at Jackson, smiling fondly, “We’re stuck here, so we may as well enjoy it.”

Yugyeom’s brows draw together as he holds out a hand, stopping Kunpimook from fully entering the store. “Wait, you think you’re stuck here?”

“Well, yes. Aren’t I?”

“You really don’t know a lot about spirits, do you,” Yugyeom asks, the question rhetorical. Kunpimook frowns, not appreciating Yugyeom’s lack of understanding. “Okay,” Yugyeom leans against the wall, smoothing a hand over his face, “Okay, I need you to listen carefully, alright?”

“When I was seventeen, I fell in love – with a man,” he adds, clearing his throat, “Jaebum tended to the gardens at my family’s home, and he was…amazing,” he smiles for a second, a bashful look on his face, “I loved him with all of my heart, Kunpimook, but I knew…rather than live with the pain, or risk being discovered, I took my own life.”

Kunpimook catches the way Yugyeom’s fingers scratch at his wrist, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“There was a lot of blood, naturally. My parents burned the clothes, but my ring,” he pauses, glancing at Mark, “The ring was a family heirloom, so they cleaned it and kept it. Thirty years after my death, my brother’s son sold the ring to a Chinese man, who brought it – and me, out of Korea.”

Kunpimook thinks about the ring on Mark’s finger, and the necklace around Jackson’s neck.

“Seventy years after my death, a Taiwanese woman bought the ring for her husband. They ended up having four children together, and when his eldest son was old enough, he gave the ring to him,” Mark’s laughter echos through the store, no doubt in response to something Jackson did. “Wherever my ring goes, my spirit travels with it, because there is a part of my earthly body still attached to it.”

“The blood,” Kunpimook whispers, feeling sick to his stomach. He looks away from Yugyeom and towards Jackson, the young man’s fingers tracing along the snake’s coils. It’s a nervous habit he’s had since he was a boy, and until now, Kunpimook had never thought much of it; now, though, he just imagines Jackson’s fingers covered in blood, the way his were as he clutched the necklace with his dying breath.

“So,” Kunpimook’s voice is thick with emotion as he faces Yugyeom once more, his body shaking, “If I…if I burn the necklace, then I’m free? I can finally rest?”

Yugyeom nods, his eyes downcast. “I can do it for you, if that’s,” he pauses, watching as Mark and Jackson walk past them, their arms saddled with several bags, “If that’s what you want.”

Jackson giggles as Mark whispers into his ear, high-pitched and a little too loud. An older woman looks up from her cell phone and glares, scoffing under her breath. Kunpimook can remember a time when he felt the same way about Jackson’s laugh, always annoyed and hating the boy for everything he did; now, though, he finds himself glaring at the woman, cursing her for having ill feelings towards Jackson.

“I don’t know,” Kunpimook finally responds, Yugyeom and him following behind the two, “When I first met Jackson, I hated the kid. He was loud and annoying, and he took me from my home. Over the years, though,” he smiles, taking a gander down memory lane, “I’ve gotten attached. A part of me wants to move on, to maybe see my own family again, but…” he sighs, “A part of me also knows that one day, Jackson won’t be here anymore. Do I really want to stay and watch him grow up, only to be left all alone in the end?”

Yugyeom slips an arm around Kunpimook’s shoulders and pulls him closer, rubbing his arm. Kunpimook relaxes into the embrace, his eyes never wavering from Jackson’s smile. “Whatever you need, Kunpimook, I’ll help.”

They arrive back at the dorm an hour later, the subject dropped for now. Life continues as it normally does, until school officially starts the following week. Jackson attends all of his classes with the biggest grin on his face, backpack filled with hi-lighters, mechanical pencils, and notebooks. The only other student who matches his level of enthusiasm is Park Jinyoung, a foreigner from South Korea. Of course, Jackson forms an immediate bond with Jinyoung, and soon even Mark is friends with the other as well.

“He’s so…pretentious!” Yugyeom scoffs, causing Kunpimook to giggle at him. “No, seriously! Look at this jerk,” he gestures towards the group who are piled on Mark’s bed, Jinyoung dominating the conversation as he goes on and on about this new book he’s reading.

Kunpimook leans over and whacks Yugyeom on the thigh. “He’s not that bad,” he says, ignoring Yugyeom’s pout, “He’s just well-read. I wish I could’ve been like that…”

“You never went to school?”

“I was the third son in a family of four; by the time I was ready for school, there wasn’t any money left,” he explains to Yugyeom, who in turn gives him a sad smile. “That’s okay, it’s not like knowing addition saved me during the war.”

“You were in the war?” Yugyeom asks, surprised; Kunpimook realizes with a start that he’s never shared this information before.

“Oh, well,” he looks down at his hands, remembering how the heavy gun felt in them, how warm his blood had been. “When I was eighteen, the Japanese invaded Thailand. Our government agreed to cooperate with them, but a lot of us – mostly my best friend, Nickhkun, didn’t support this decision. We started our own war, and I took a bullet to the chest for it.”

“And you were wearing your necklace?”

“It was a gift, from my mother,” he sighs, placing his hand over his chest. He can still recall how the pendant felt, the wood resting comfortably against his ribs. “She said as long as I had it, I would always be with her…”

Kunpimook sniffs, his shoulders tensing. “Kunpimook?” Yugyeom calls out to him, concerned, “What is it?”

“I want to go home,” he whispers, looking up at Yugyeom with pleading eyes. “Will you help me?”

“Of course, Kunpimook,” Yugyeom says, laying a warm hand on his back. The two begin to devise a plan, beginning with Yugyeom swiping a lighter from the students next door. They then wait until Jackson takes off the necklace, tossing it onto his bed and following after Mark to the communal showers.

Yugyeom picks up the necklace in one hand, while holding the lighter in the other hand, finger on the lever. “Are you ready?”

Kunpimook begins to open his mouth, but freezes, the word _yes_ trapped on his tongue. Is he ready for this? Ever since he left for the war, all Kunpimook wanted was to be reunited with his family again; now that the chance is here, he’s hesitating, all for a stupid kid he’s grown attached to. It’s not like Jackson can see or hear him, and does he really want to stick around, only to be abandoned in the end?

The doorknob begins to turn and Yugyeom drops the items from his hand, letting them fall onto the carpet with a soft sound. Jackson enters the room and pauses, looking at the floor in confusion. “What the –?” he picks up the necklace, his fingers stroking the coils.

“Jackson, did you find the–” Mark comes rushing in, stopping when he sees Jackson’s confused face. “What’s wrong?”

“My necklace was on the floor,” he mumbles to the other, before slipping it over his neck. It comes to rest against his bare chest, “I didn’t leave it there.”

Mark closes the door behind them, their lack of shampoo for the showers forgotten. “I’ve had this necklace since I was a kid, you know?” Jackson begins, his fingers still following the coils, “It’s hard to explain, but I’ve always felt…comfort, when wearing it. Like someone is watching out for me. Is that insane?”

Mark chuckles, giving his ring an unconscious twist. “Nah man, it’s not crazy. C’mon, we need to shower before all the hot water is gone,” he says, moving to grab the bottle of shampoo on the nightstand, before guiding Jackson out of the room, a gentle hand on his back.

“No way,” Kunpimook says as soon as they leave the room, turning towards Yugyeom, “Yugyeom, he…he knows I’m here. Jackson knows I’m with him!” he feels like crying as he jumps into Yugyeom’s arms, burying his face in the other’s strong chest, “He knows I’m here!”

“So,” Yugyeom’s arms circle around his waist, holding him close, “Should we devise a new plan, or would you like to stay a little bit longer?”

Kunpimook leans back, looking up at Yugyeom with a grin.

 

_Five Years Later_

Kunpimook gasps as Jackson falls to one knee, his hands over his mouth. He immediately begins squealing as Jackson opens the little felt box, ignoring Yugyeom’s eye rolls. “You were literally there when he picked out the ring,” he mumbles, unable to contain his own smile as Mark tears up, shakily nodding his head yes. Jackson shrieks with joy and bounces to his feet, picking up Mark and spinning him around the room.

“I’m just so happy,” Kunpimook lowers his hand, one of them catching Yugyeom’s and giving it a squeeze. “An opportunity like this was never available to our generations. I mean, look at them,” he continues to gush, meeting Yugyeom’s eyes, “They’re healthy, they’re both educated, and they’re in love. It’s amazing, Yugyeom.”

“It really is,” Yugyeom agrees, grinning, “It’ll be even more amazing when they adopt. I know Mark wants a son–”

“And Jackson wants a little girl,” Kunpimook finishes, his eyes widening as he exclaims, “Oh my god, two babies! Can you imagine?”

They glance over at the two, just as Jackson spills a flute of champagne onto himself, making Mark giggle in response. “Currently, no, but I’m glad I’ll be around to see it.”

“Yeah,” Kunpimook nods, his smile never wavering, “Yeah, me too.”


End file.
